


I have it with these kriffing mushrooms on this kriffing planet

by Chifuyu



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempt at Humor, Dirty Talk, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Sex Pollen, Smut, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 08:14:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21176246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chifuyu/pseuds/Chifuyu
Summary: Stranded on an unknown planet, at the mercy of an unsuspecting Alderaanian, it's on Hux to get him and Kylo Ren off this planet and back on the Finalizer. Pretending to be loyal Republicans and the lover of none other than the son of Leia Organa, Hux is sure he can convince Blysma to help them. If only Ren wouldn't insist on making his task so much more difficult than it has to be.





	I have it with these kriffing mushrooms on this kriffing planet

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted some Sex Pollen fic, so I wrote some Sex Pollen fic, easy as that. Heavily inspired by the Hux comic. If you haven't read it you're clearly missing out on some amazing Kylo and Hux interaction. 
> 
> Thank you so much [Callmelyss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmelyss/profile) for editing this fic for me! You're the best!
> 
> And thank you [StoryTellingApe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storytellingape/profile) for holding my hand throughout all this! I love you!

* * *

Kylo Ren, as it turns out, is just as hopelessly expressive in his sleep as he is when wide awake and stripped of his helmet. A furrowed brow here, a slight sneer there. From time to time, he scrunches up his nose in an expression that would have been adorable on a child but is wildly out of place on Supreme Leader's Snoke's feral hound.

Hux derives no pleasure from watching Ren shift and turn in his sleep, but he's left with little else to do, trapped on this backwater planet and pretending to be_ Ben's _loyal friend.

Bylsma had bought into his lie easily enough, with all the naivety and gullibility Hux has come to expect from members of the Resistance, or in this case, the Rebellion. Nevertheless, Bylsma has remained reluctant to send out a signal, still caught up in his fear of the Empire even though it's long gone. Hux can’t help but wonder how the First Order would fare in comparison. Would Bylsma fear them just as much? Perhaps more? He'll find out soon, of that, he's certain. Surely, they won't be stuck here for much longer. 

He shifts in the shaky wooden chair, crossing and uncrossing his legs as he tries and fails to find a more comfortable position. When Bylsma steps into the tiny bedroom, Hux is quick to school his features into a mask of wrung-out exhaustion and worry.

“You should get some rest,” Bylsma tells him, gruff voice heavy with concern. “Your friend will be fine.”

It's ludicrous to think that Hux would sacrifice sleep to watch over an injured Ren, and he has to keep himself from scoffing at the mere idea. Instead, he shakes his head and throws Ren a look that he hopes comes across as tender.

“I want to be here when he wakes up,” he insists. Nothing could be further from the truth. Simply said, he doesn't want to fall asleep on a converted Alderaanian ship with a former Royal Guard of Alderaan's army and Kylo Ren nearby. He'd be a fool to do so.

Bylsma sighs and steps closer, offering Hux a gentle smile. For a split second, Hux fears he might even go so far as to put his hand on his shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. Instead, he sets down a steaming plate of food on the nightstand next to the bed. Good, Hux thinks. He might not have been able to resist the urge to slap his hand away had the old man tried and touched him.

“At the very least, eat something,” Bylsma insists, indicating the full plate with a jerk of his head. “Fantazi mushrooms. Picked them myself. They're delicious when properly prepared.”

Intrigued, Hux inspects the offered meal a little closer. Mushrooms, grilled it seems, with the edges somewhat charred but otherwise looking quite appetizing.

“Properly prepared?” Hux asks, picking up the provided fork and moving the mushrooms around on the plate without taking a single bite.

Bylsma is too busy redressing Ren's head wound to pay Hux's antics much attention.

“They're poisonous when eaten raw. Make a man completely lose his mind before he dies a slow and painful death. The spores are dangerous too. Breathing them in might not kill you but believe me, you'd regret it the next morning."

Hux has no idea what he means by that but doesn't bother to ask for clarification. The qualities of the fungal spores are uninteresting. The poisonous qualities of the mushroom itself, however...

He hasn’t killed Bylsma out of some misdirected sense of gratitude, (he has, after all, given them food and shelter) but out of sheer practicality. Without Ren, Hux stands little chance against his petting zoo of Norwoods. He's not sure how kindly the beasts would take to him if he tried to kill their owner with a blaster bolt or the monomolecular blade hidden in his sleeve and, quite frankly, he has no desire to find out. For now, he has decided to employ more subtle methods: occasionally reminding Bylsma that the war is over, that he's free to reunite with his family (if any relatives survived Alderaan's destruction) or pledge loyalty to the royal house of Organa once more.

Hux gives himself two more cycles to convince the unassuming man to change his mind about sending out a distress signal. Should that fail, well, the planet is overflowing with Fantazi mushrooms.

* * *

Hux jerks awake with a disgruntled huff, almost losing his balance as he tries to make sense of his surroundings. It seems, despite his best intentions, he’s fallen asleep. A quick look around the room reveals that Ren is still unconscious. The only indications that any time had passed at all are the plate of mushrooms on the nightstand, now cold, and the rays of sunshine coming in through the open airlock that now functions as a window. Every bone in his body screams in protest as he gets up and lifts himself up to his full height. He's no stranger to pain and so he ignores the insistent throbbing in his back when he goes to search for Bylsma.

He finds the man not far from his home, flanked by his blue beasts, and carrying a basket fashioned out of scrap metal. The Norwoods are first to sense him approaching, raising their furry heads and glaring at him in obvious distrust. No, killing Bysma wouldn't be as easy as a blaster bolt through the skull. Alerted by his pets, Bylsma raises his head, his face brightening when he sees Hux. He calls him over with an excited wave of his hand.

“You're awake,” Bylsma says by way of greeting, once Hux is close enough to hear him.

Hux inclines his head in acknowledgement and forces down the urge to sneer at the old man.

“What about your partner?”

“Partner?”

Bylsma nods. “Ben was his name? You must love him very much; you didn't leave his side for a second, watching over him the whole night.”

It's a good thing that Bylsma—distracted by a particularly succulent mushroom—turns away in this very moment. Otherwise, the expression of utter revulsion flitting across Hux's face at the mere suggestion of him and Ren as lovers might have given away their disguise as upright citizens of the Republic who have found themselves on this planet by sheer accident.

“Indeed,” Hux presses out between clenched teeth. “He's...special.”

“Mhm,” Bylsma agrees. “I knew a girl once, on Alderaan. She was special too. Would have married her if not for..." He trails off, the docile expression on his face momentarily darkening before he shakes himself out of it. “Well, no point in mourning the good old days.”

Silence settles over them and Hux finds himself struggling with how to proceed next. It's clear Bylsma would expect a gesture of sympathy after such a confession and Hux would do well to give it in his current situation. Unfortunately, he has as little desire to touch the other man as he has to be touched by him.

Torn, he makes a step forward, determined to get this over with and promptly forget about it when Bylsma puts a hand on his chest and forcefully shoves him away.

“Wh--”

“Don't step on the mushrooms, boy. You'd regret it. Remember what I told you about the spores?”

“Yes,” Hux mumbles, barely able to keep the hurt pride out of his voice. “I'll be more careful from now on.”

Bylsma smiles at that and, oblivious to Hux's discomfort, gives him a good-natured pat on the back.

“Good. Now come and help an old man carry this.”

As they make their way back to the ship, Hux carrying the makeshift basket full of Bylsma's mushroom haul, he swears a silent oath to make the man's death as painful as possible.

* * *

Ren is nowhere to be found. The sheets of the bed are cold, the plate of mushrooms is empty and his lightsaber is gone.

Hux doesn't have it in him to be surprised. On the contrary, if there was one person who'd simply get up and leave after having lain unconscious for a day, without so much as questioning their whereabouts, it would be Ren.

In every other situation, Hux wouldn't have wasted a single thought on Ren's disappearance. Hux is not his babysitter, no matter how much it feels like this is the exact case at times, and he can come and go as he pleases. If he gets eaten by a pack of ravenous Norwoods, all the better.

“Where did he go?” Bylsma's worried voice echoes behind him.

A shame then, that he has to uphold appearances in front of Bylsma.

“I don't know,” Hux whispers, letting a note of panic seep into his voice. “He's injured. Why would he leave the safety of this ship?”

Because he's a fool, obviously, but that's beside the point.

Hux turns on his heels and grabs Bylsma by the shoulders. “We need to find him,” he urges, voice shaking. “I can't let anything happen to him.”

A little overly dramatic perhaps but Bylsma doesn't question it. He holds Hux by his arms and gives his biceps a reassuring squeeze.

“Calm down, boy. He can’t have gotten far. I know this planet like the back of my hand. We'll find him.”

Hux nods and, for good measure, swallows thickly. “Thank you.”

“No need for that. Now let's not waste any more time. Just stay close and don't wander off on your own.”

Hux blinks, momentarily caught off guard. “Hm?”

Bylsma stares at him, one bushy eyebrows arched in confusion. “We're going to find your partner. Surely, you want to come with me?”

Hux doesn't miss a beat. “Of course.”

Well, there goes his plan to contact the First Order while Bylsma is gone.

* * *

The trudge through the mushroom woods does little to improve Hux's already bad mood. Naturally, he blames it all on Ren. What was he thinking? Stalking off like that, without any clue to his whereabouts? Without knowing this planet? Without Hux?

“No need for the long face,” Bylsma says, mistaking Hux's sour expression for worry. “Not much out here that could get Ben in trouble. He looked like a man who can take care of himself, what with that lightsaber of his. He's a Jedi?”

Hux forcefully suppresses the irritated groan bubbling up his throat. Mindless small talk in a misguided attempt to distract him from his assumed concern for the well-being of his lover, how dreadful.

“A Jedi, yes,” he agrees, saccharine sweet. “Trained by Luke Skywalker himself.”

The loathsome Skywalker name earns him an impressed whistle.

“Then there's truly no reason to worry. A student of Luke Skywalker must know how to take care of himself.”

If only.

“Would be easier to find him if we had something of his, a lock of hair perhaps. My Norwoods would be able to follow his trail.” He throws Hux a sheepish look from over his shoulder. “You don't happen to have something like that, do you? A lock of hair? A handkerchief? Some token of affection?”

Hux stares at him, struck speechless by the absurdity of the inquiry.

“I fear not,” he admits at last, fluttering his lashes for dramatic effect. “I always told him, I don't need some trinket to remember him by.”

Bylsma huffs in agreement, although he can't hide the slight disappointment in his step as he turns to concentrate on the path ahead. “Might be so, but it would've made this a whole lot easier.”

Hux has half a mind to stab him with his hidden blade. He refrains when one of Bylsma's Norwood companions gives him a wary look.

* * *

He doesn't know how much time they’ve wasted searching for Ren already, but judging from the cramping in his legs and the numb pain tingling down his spine, it's been far too long.

Bylsma may be decades older than him but unlike Hux, he's used to such intense physical activity and is tireless in his pursuit. Hux can feel himself falling behind, the gap between him and Bylsma growing with every step. Yet he refuses to call out to him and demand they pause their search. He still has a role to play and this role requires him to not give up until they've found Ren.

He stumbles to a halt not soon after, leaning against the stem of one of the gigantic mushrooms to catch his breath and then soldier on. When he looks up, ready to continue this charade, Bylsma is gone.

Kriffing hells.

Hux closes his eyes and concentrates on the rise and fall of his chest, the steady beat of his heart and the low rumble of his stomach. Grounded once more, he opens his eyes again and sets out to not only find Ren but his lost guide as well.

Despite his inexperience in the field—and he's not above admitting it—he, like every other child of the First Order, had to undergo countless survival and battle simulations. He's not helpless, merely ill-equipped for the particular situation.

Letting his hidden blade slide out of its sheath, he sets out to find Bylsma. The trail from him and his beasts is easy enough to follow—Norwoods are not the most graceful of creatures and prone to careless destruction, not unlike a certain someone Hux knows. All Hux has to do is look out for trampled grass and broken branches and not fall prey to other predators that might lurk in the shadows.

Walking without pause, he's sure he’s made good progress—the footprints left in the soft earth seem fresher now and the bent blades of grass are still bleeding sap. Bylsma can't be far. The only thing complicating his search are the Fantazi mushrooms that have started to replace the grassy underwood. Avoiding them at every step has slowed him down considerably.

A noise to his left makes him stop dead in his tracks. Snapping to attention, he lifts his monomolecular blade, ready to defend himself against whatever new monstrosity this planet is about to throw at him now.

It's Ren. His hair is dishevelled, the bandage Bylsma had so painstakingly applied nowhere to be seen. He's holding his lightsaber in one hand, not yet ignited, and his helmet in the other.

“Hux?” he mumbles, looking Hux over with his usual indifference.

“Care to explain to me what you're doing here, Ren?” Hux demands to know, weapon still raised.

“Retrieving my helmet,” Ren explains, impatient, as if it should have been obvious from the start.

“You fool!” Hux snaps. “You sentimental child!”

Ren's face darkens as he moves closer, lightsaber igniting with a rumbling purr.

“Careful, Hux--”

“Ren!” Hux cuts him off, eyes glued to the fine cloud of spores rising all around Ren. “Don't move!”

Ren hesitates, if only for a moment, before he takes another step forward, ignoring Hux's words out of sheer spite it seems.

Too late Hux covers his mouth and face with one hand. He has inhaled the spores already and so has Ren.

“What is the meaning of this?” Ren demands to know, clearly irritated by Hux's unusual behaviour.

Hux shakes his head at him. Let this petulant brat experience the consequences of his heedless actions, Hux thinks. If he's lucky then the dose he has inhaled is non-lethal. He might get away with it, after all.

But Kylo Ren isn't a man to be denied. He growls, breathing in more of the spores as he does.

“You will speak,” he orders and raises a gloved hand.

Hux has overseen enough torture session to know what this particular gesture means. Ren is about to wrestle the knowledge he seeks from his mind, not caring if he might break it in the process.

He'd rather die than have Kylo Ren rummaging around in his skull.

“The mushrooms, Ren!” he shouts, enraged. “Their spores are poisonous!”

Holding his breath, Hux stands and watches as understanding blossoms on Ren’s irregular features. His dark gaze flickers downwards, to his helmet. Too late for that, Hux thinks, but refrains from saying out loud, no matter how much he’d like to rub Ren’s idiocy in his face.

Neither of them dares move, holding their breaths as long they can, silently hoping it will be enough for the clouds of spores to settle. In the end, Hux is the one to give in first. He sucks in the air through his clenched teeth, hating himself for being the first to succumb to his body’s need for oxygen. The air tastes clean enough, though Hux doesn't fail to notice that there’s a soreness in the back of his throat whenever he swallows or breathes in. Disconcerting.

“We need to get out of here,” he tells Kylo and turns on his heels without waiting for a reply.

Perhaps he should have listened to Bylsma when he so graciously offered to share his knowledge on Fantazi mushrooms. He has, quite frankly, zero clue on what to expect. Terrible pain, strong enough to bring even Ren to his knees? (A rather appealing mental image if only he hadn't ingested the cursed spores as well). Or, perhaps, hallucinations so vivid they’d both go mad as a result? Hux frowns. They need to get back to Bylsma's ship and hope the old man had an antidote or, at the very least, some bacta injections to ease the pain that was surely waiting for them now.

Behind him, Ren gives a low grunt. His heavy footsteps are loud enough to drown out the noises of the forest and quickly bring Hux to the verge of exasperated despair.

Unable to take it any longer, Hux turns around, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. “Walk like a normal human being or is that too much to ask of the son of rebel scum?”

Ren's helmet hits the ground with a dull thud, his eyes impossibly dark as he glares at Hux, his usually so expressive face unreadable.

“If you wish to die here..." he growls, flexing and unflexing his hand, the leather of his glove squeaking.

Hux doesn't back down. His throat feels dry and his palms clammy. There's sweat collecting underneath his high collar but it's not from fear. He knows what fear feels like, knows the suffocating tightness in his chest, like an iron fist around his heart, all too well. This isn’t fear. This is something else entirely.

“If not for me,you’d be dead already,” Hux hisses and licks his dry lips. “Slaughtered by those blue beasts.”

Ren is on him in an instant, his hand closing around his throat. He’s not quite strangling him—not yet—but there’s enough pressure to remind Hux that he’s perfectly capable of snapping his neck with little effort if he wishes to do so.

“If not for me,” Ren growls, his breath unnaturally hot on Hux’s skin. “Then your fate would’ve been the same as that of the pilot and crew.”

Hux surges forward and buries his teeth in the soft flesh of Ren's lip.

They topple to the ground in an undignified heap, pulling at each other as if they were bloodthirsty animals. As Hux pulls at Ren's flesh, tearing into it until he can taste blood on the tip of his tongue, Hux wonders if it would have been this easy—bringing Ren to his knees—had he not ingested the spores.

Ren's hold—having gone lax in the ensuing chaos—tightens once more and Hux is forced to let go of him. It feels like a triumph still, with Ren's blood adorning his face like a mark of victory and his stomach tightening with sadistic glee. This, he thinks, is where Ren belongs.

His euphoria doesn't last. Ren flips them around with a roar, pinning Hux underneath his heavy frame, one hand pressing down on his throat, the other fisting his hair. 

“Rabid cur,” Ren growls. His teeth are flecked with red and there's blood dripping from his torn lip and onto Hux's uniform, tainting it where it soaks into the pristine fabric.

Hux laughs, the sound rough and strained. He can barely breathe, the back of his throat feels raw and itchy. It feels like his blood is boiling underneath his skin.

“If I'm a rabid cur,” Hux wheezes, writhing underneath Ren. “Then what does that make you?”

He would have expected Ren to lash out, to pull his lightsaber in a juvenile demonstration of strength, maybe go so far as to use the Force to put him in what Ren thinks is his right place. He does nothing of the sorts. Instead, Ren stills. He doesn't move, doesn't speak, doesn't even seem to breathe. He stares at Hux, his brown eyes taking on a copper hue.

“You'll find out soon enough.”

Before Hux can do so much as open his mouth and ask what new madness has befallen Ren, the other closes the small distance between them and crashes their mouths together.

It's not a kiss, not by far. At best, it's a poor imitation of one. Their teeth are clashing, the sharp pain of it cutting through the thick haze in Hux's head, and Hux almost bites off the tip of his own tongue. Ren doesn’t seem to care. Not wasting another moment, Ren forces his tongue between Hux's lips and into his wet mouth. Hux would bite him but Ren, as if sensing his intentions, has moved his hand from Hux's throat to his jaw, holding it firmly in place and thus making it impossible for Hux to close his mouth. Helpless, Hux can do little but wait until Ren has had his fill and, occasionally, box the man in the side.

“Disgusting,” Hux spats when Ren lets go of him at last.

He stares up at Ren, with defiance brewing in his chest and anger pulling at the corners of his bloodstained mouth. Ren, with his hair falling around him like a shroud and his pale lips just as red as Hux's, looks like Nabooian royalty. 

“Liar,” Ren whispers and kisses him again.

This time, Hux kisses back.

There's no finesse to their second kiss either, but Hux can't say that he's bothered by it. It's what he expected from somebody like Ren, more beast than man. His touches are overwhelming, the way he forces his tongue in Hux's mouth with childish impatience, the way he tears at Hux's lips in a clumsy attempt to get Hux's undivided attention.

“You're hard for me,” Ren growls, voice torn between smug satisfaction and hesitant awe.

In return, Hux bites down on Ren's tongue, laughing softly when Ren glares at him.

“Ridiculous,” Hux mumbles, not caring for how obvious a lie it is.

He rolls his hips upward, sliding their bodies against each other. They're both hard and Hux, with his head all dizzy and his cock dripping precome, slides a hand between their bodies.

“Impressive,” he croons, fingers massaging the bulge tenting Ren's jodhpurs.

His compliments are lost on Ren. He's too far gone already to appreciate Hux's open appreciation of the size of his cock, rutting against Hux's hand like an animal in heat.

“More,” he demands, his usually deep voice pitched high, carrying with it a hint of desperation.

Hux can feel himself shiver, every single hair on his body standing in anticipation, his body eager to give in to Ren's demands and roll around to get on his hands and knees. Have Ren use him as he sees fit, let him tear Hux apart with that ridiculous cock of his, fill him up to the brim and paint his thighs with his come.

In the end, he doesn't. His pride forbids him from letting Ren have his way. Not so easily at least.

“Make me,” he whispers, barely able to form the words with his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth.

An amused snort cuts through the humid air, cold and calculating. It makes Hux's cock twitch and the precome leak into his regulation boxers.

“You know I can take whatever I want,” Ren whispers, eyes burning bright.

Hux smiles and licks the blood off his teeth.

“You can try.”

His uniform gives after little resistance, the hooks bending and breaking as Ren tears the fabric apart at the front, likely not caring for the dark glare Hux gives in protest. But Hux's vengeance comes swiftly. He tears Ren's broad belt off with a disapproving click of his tongue and throws it aside with zero consideration for the lightsaber dangling from it.

It lands with a dull thud and it seems the sound is enough to wake Ren from his daze. He looks up, his eyes following searching for the spot where his saber must have landed in the high grass, in between the many mushrooms.

Hux is having none of it. Reaching out with one hand, he grabs Ren by his long hair, momentarily marveling at how soft it is, and pulls mercilessly.

“Look at me,” he demands. “And only at me.”

Ren opens his mouth to speak but Hux is in no mood to hear him stutter through another threat. All he wants to hear from him are needy moans and rough whimpers as he takes Hux and gives him what he so desperately wants.

Smart enough not to argue anymore, Ren puts a hand on Hux's chest, big enough to cover almost the entire span of it and fists his fingers into the thin fabric of his undershirt.

Kriffing hells, his hands are big, surely big enough to easily grab Hux around his thigh, hold him there while he plows into him from behind.

He moans, unable to contain his excitement any longer.

“Here,” he huffs, fed up with Ren's slow pace. “Let me take care of this for you.”

With Ren's eyes never leaving his, Hux wriggles out of his undershirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it aside with little care to where it lands. Above him, Ren's expression shifts into one of awe, his gaze moving from Hux's flushed face down to his neck and chest. His gloved fingers close around one nipple and twist it without asking for permission and Hux, caught off-guard, can't help the surprised gasp that escapes him at the unexpected move. His nipples have always been sensitive and the small touch is enough to have him shiver in anticipation. 

Ren, for all his usual egomania, doesn't fail to notice his reaction and is quick to do the same to Hux's other nipple. He’s switching between both of them, doubling his efforts whenever he manages to coax a needy sound from Hux. He doesn't stop, not even when he has reduced Hux to a whimpering mess and the nipples in question are flushed and hard, a rosy pink against his otherwise pale skin.

“Enough,” Hux snaps, vision already hazy with the intensity of his arousal. Any longer, and he might have reached his climax from this alone. A satisfaction he won't give Ren.

To Hux's surprise, Ren does as he’s told, though not without one last twist that elicits a pained gasp from Hux.

"You like that,” Ren says, speaking slowly, as if he can't quite believe his own words. "Having your nipples played with. You moaned like a common whore when I touched your chest."

Hux's red-cheeked expression darkens and, without preamble, he pushes his knee in between Ren's legs, pressing against his groin just hard enough to make it hurt.

“And how would you know that, Ren?” he hisses. “Have you bedded any whores recently?”

Ren's eyes narrow and his fingers dig in Hux's side where he's palming his waist. There’s no doubt he’ll leave a mark but Hux's relishes the pain.

“That's what I thought.” He gives Ren a razor-sharp smirk, pleased with this small victory, and shifts under him, pulling away from Ren's crotch to spread his legs instead, leaving himself open and vulnerable.

“Now shut up and fuck me.”

Ren, as it turns out, can follow direct orders. Something that Hux, until now, has had his doubts about. He reaches for the hidden zipper of Hux's jodhpurs without complaint and pulls at it with such impatient force, it breaks.

Hux tuts at him but it doesn’t concern Ren. Judging from his intense stare, fixed entirely on the bulge in Hux's trousers, his attention lies elsewhere. Though he had expected no less, Hux still lets out an indignant gasp when Ren tears his trousers off him. As soon as the offending garment is out of the way—thrown carelessly aside despite Hux's weak protests, together with his boots and socks—Ren's hands are on him.

They're big. Which shouldn't surprise Hux as much as it does. His hands are big, it's an empirical fact. Hux has access to his medical file on the Finalizer, he knows his height, his weight, the length of every finger. All things considered, there's no need for his body to react like it does: his heart skipping a beat when Ren puts those hands on him, easily fitting around his waist.

“Kriffing hells,” he groans. He's meant to make it sound disgusted but what comes out of his mouth is more excited whimper than contemptuous snarl.

Ren growls in reply—impossible to tell whether in agreement or defiance—and moves his hands over Hux's skin, exploring his body like he owns it.

The sound of tearing fabric cuts through their frantic breathing and when Hux looks down between their bodies Ren is holding what used to be his regulation underwear in his hands, now nothing more than a few scraps.

“You brute,” he chides and is silenced with a kiss.

He bites down on Ren's tongue on principle but doesn't pull away and opens his mouth willingly enough when Ren presses down on him.

Like everything he does, Ren is rash also in this. He carves out a space between Hux's legs without any regards to Hux's own comfort, spreading Hux’s legs to the point of discomfort before he deigns to touch his leaking cock.

“Pretty,” he comments as he breaks their kiss to catch a glimpse of it.

It's the last thing Hux would have expected to ever come out of Ren's mouth and, to his utter mortification, he can feel himself flush at the simple compliment.

Oblivious, Ren goes on, tugging at a lock of Hux’s pubic hair. “Red down here, too.”

“Surprised?” Hux asks, desperate not to let it show how much Ren's words affect him.

“Yes,” Ren admits without hesitation. He's still looking at Hux's cock in his hand, rubbing the tip with his thumb until Hux can no longer control himself and a whimpering moan tears itself from his throat.

It's not that Ren's touch is particularly skilled—Hux's has a fleeting suspicion that apart from himself Ren has never touched another living soul in this way—but he makes up for it with enthusiasm, tugging and jerking at Hux at alternating paces, repeating a motion whenever it elicits a particularly loud whimper from Hux.

Far too soon, Hux is reduced to an undignified mess. He's arching up into Ren's touch without meaning to, his legs shaking with the effort. Ren hasn't even taken off his gloves yet.

“Ren,” he hisses in warning.

By now they're covered in dirt and grime but it strikes Hux as entirely unfair that he's naked with pieces of grass and mushroom clinging to him, while Ren is still fully clothed.

As if reading his mind—and perhaps he did—Ren lets go off him to pull off his gloves. He makes to remove his tunic as well but far too slow for Hux's tastes and so he decides to take matters into his own hand.

When he reaches for Ren, he can't help but notice the dirt collecting under his nails and frowns in displeasure. This whole disaster is all Ren's fault. And he better makes up for it by giving Hux the best fuck of his life.

He pulls down the zipper of Ren's robe with more force than strictly necessary and undresses the other man with as much efficiency as he can muster in his current state. If Ren notices that Hux fingers are shaking when he pushes the piece of clothing off his broad shoulders than he has the unexpected good grace not to comment on it. Underneath, Ren wears a simple undershirt, not unlike the one Hux wore, only that his is long-sleeved and ends above the navel.

“You like what you’re seeing,” Ren whispers, a smug note in his voice that hasn't been there before.

Hux clicks his tongue. “Get out of my head.”

“I wasn't in your head, General,” Ren argues. “I didn’t need to. The desire is plain to see on your face.”

Giving Hux's neglected cock one last tug, he leans up to remove the undershirt. Of course, he has to make a show out of it, flexing the muscles in his arms and arching his back to show off his broad chest. For once, Hux isn't complaining. As self-indulgent as this display is, Hux can appreciate it nonetheless. For all their mutual dislike for each other, Hux can't deny that Ren is an impressive specimen.

“Enough of that,” he snaps when Ren makes no move to disrobe further. “Show me your cock.” 

If the vulgarity of Hux’s statement bothers Ren in any way, then he doesn't show it. If anything, his expression seems to suggest that he's more than pleased with the forceful command. Seemingly brrimming with satisfaction, he unzips his pants and pushes them down his hips with little decorum. He doesn't even bother to take them off, simply lets the fabric pool around his knees as he presses closer to Hux to press their erections together.

Hux's cock leaves a wet stripe of precome on Ren's black boxers and the sight of it has Hux shivering. Even with them just rubbing against each other like this he can tell that Ren is big. Certainly bigger than him.

“Ren,” he warns one last time. “Show me.”

His demand is met with resistance. Ren is all but pouting, so unbefitting the alleged heir of Darth Vader.

“You'll get to rub your cock against it, don’t you worry,” Hux snaps at him.

The promise of more finally makes Ren concede. Of course, Hux shouldn't have expected anything else from an overgrown, spoiled child like him. With another grunt, Ren shoves his boxers down to his knees, not bothered by the way they bundle up in the crook of his knees, only eager to press their bodies together once more.

Hux is having none of it. He puts a hand on Ren's heaving chest and pushes him away, just enough so that he might take a good look between his legs.

And perhaps for the first time since knowing him, Hux has to admit that Ren doesn't disappoint. Not in this regard at least. He's not one to wax poetic but Ren's cock is nothing short of a thing of beauty. Long and thick, uncut too, which is unusual within the First Order and betrays Ren's New Republic roots he has tried so hard to eradicate. Apparently, his determination to do that has not extended to cutting off the foreskin of his penis. Hux is willing to forgive him for this weakness of character. It would have been a shame to alter this impressive specimen in any way. Especially since Ren reacts so very beautifully when Hux reaches down to tug at the bit of extra skin, pushing it down to reveal his glans fully. He moans and shuffles closer, burying his face in Hux's shoulder.

“I want--” Hux tightens his grip around Ren's cock, earning himself a low grumble that sends an involuntary shiver running down Hux’s spine.

“I know you do,” Hux whispers. “Lucky for you, we want the same thing.”

An animalistic growl is his only warning before Ren is kissing him, much more tenderly this time around, minding his damn teeth for once, though he's no less eager for it. Ren has never had any use for subtlety. Growling and grunting, it’s obvious he wants Hux to move his hand, to jerk him off or at the very least allow him to hump Hux’s thigh so he may find release. But Hux is not going to give into his demands so easily, his own painful erection be damned.

“I want to fuck you,” Ren mumbles against his mouth, licking at Hux's lower lip as if hoping that this might soften Hux up.

Hux rolls his eyes at him but is kind enough not to bite off the tip of Ren's tongue in punishment for the sheer audacity he's just displayed.

“Of course you do, you brat." Hux clicks his tongue and sucks Ren's into his mouth, claiming another debauched kiss before he lets go of him once more. "But if you think I'll let you fuck me unprepared with this montrosity you call a cock...”

He trails off, momentarily distracted by Ren rubbing their straining erections together. Because the truth is this: He wants Ren to fuck him, fuck him until he can’t see straight, grind him into the dust and dirt while thrusting inside him, leaving him gaping and dripping with his seed by the end of it.

However, that's not something Ren's needs to know.

Caught up in his own mind, he almost yelps when Ren grabs him by his hips, hoists his legs over his broad shoulders and buries his face in between Hux's ass cheeks.

“Warn a man next time, Ren!” he huffs, though his petty complaints quickly transform into whimpering moans when Ren starts to lap at his taint before moving lower.

“Next time?” he growls in between two licks, a little muffled but undeniably pleased. It's only then that Hux realises his mistake.

“A figure of speech,” he manages to press out in between lewd moans and gasps.

Ren has no right, no right to be so very talented with his mouth and tongue, devouring him with a vigour that brings Hux to the edge of despair. His entire body is wrecked with tremors, his hard but neglected cock twitching with every thrust of that tongue inside him. Sucking in a shaking breath, he reaches down, desperate to release some of the pressure building inside him. But Ren has other plans.

He grabs Hux by the wrist without interrupting his pleasant torture once, holding him in place with an ease that infurates Hux and arouses him beyond measure at the same time.

“No,” he simply says, lifting his head to look at Hux, his chin dripping with his own saliva. “You'll come on my cock or not at all.”

The words are said with such finality, Hux wants nothing more than to shove Ren off him and take matters into his own hands.

“I'm not a pleasure slave, Ren. You'd do well to remember that.”

Ren looks at him, head tilted in a way that makes him look younger than he is.

“No, but you're mine.”

There's no warning before two of Ren’s thick fingers breach him at once. Hux screams, not so much in pain but in indignant surprise, his legs almost sliding off Ren's shoulders as he jerks, his body's initial response to shy away from the sudden penetration.

“Kriffing hells--” he cusses, blinking away the tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. “You brute!”

It's a weak insult and one he’s used before, but Ren slows down nonetheless, moving his fingers more carefully in and out of Hux and giving him enough time to adjust to the intrusion. It doesn't take long until Hux is panting in ecstasy once more, squirming on the dirty ground whenever Ren's thick fingers brush his prostate.

“More,” he demands breathlessly and Ren indulges him.

A third finger joins the other two inside him, stretching him so wide it errs on the side of pain. And still, these three fingers are nothing compared to the thick erection between Ren's legs. Curved upward and flushed an angry red, Hux can't wait to have it inside him.

"Soon," Ren promises. His voice is rough with desire and Hux, despite his best intentions, can't suppress the deep shudder running down his spine upon hearing it.

“No mind-reading,” he gasps, eyes fluttering close when Ren's fingers curl inside him, purposefully seeking out his prostate.

“I don’t need to read your mind to know what you are thinking, General,” Ren growls. “It’s plain to see on your face.”

Before Hux can come up with a snapping reply, Ren pulls out of him. The suddenness of the motion has Hux cry out, the sound embarrassingly needy.

“If it's so obvious,” Hux says, the words coming only slowly, his tongue feeling heavy like lead. “Then get on with it and do what I desire.”

When Ren thrusts his cock inside him, his fingers digging into Hux's thighs to hold him in place, it doesn't occur to Hux that this might as well be the very first time Ren followed one of his orders without complaint or delay.

He screams, the sound loud enough to ring in his own ears. Ren silences him with a kiss, choking off any abuse Hux might have hurled at him.

Already, he feels full to bursting, his body struggling to accommodate Ren as he pushes forward inch after inch, seemingly never ending.

“Breathe,” Ren instructs. 

Hux bites down on his lip until he can taste blood. Ren takes it with unusual patience, neither pulling away nor trying to push Hux down. Swallowing the blood filling his mouth, Hux releases him at last and does as he's been told: breathe.

Ren doesn't gloat. Instead, he presses on, moving his hips in languid circles that allow Hux to slowly get used to his girth and length.

“You can--move properly, Ren,” Hux tells him, unnerved by the uncharacteristic tenderness.

“That's not for you to decide,” Ren tells him, voice strained.

He's holding back. It's obvious in the way he carries himself, shoulders shaking and back strained, teeth grinding against each other as he struggles to keep his composure.

Hux clicks his tongue and, in a fit of uncharacteristic rashness, grabs Ren by his forearms and thrusts forward, forcing Ren's cock as deep inside himself as possible.

They both cry out this time and for a moment lasting no longer than a heartbeat, Hux's vision whitens out. When he comes to again, Ren is bend over him, folding him almost in half with the weight of his upper body alone. Their eyes meet but neither of them says a word as they breathe in the other's scent, sharing the same hot air.

Then Ren starts to move. His previous hesitation is but a memory and Hux can do little but allow him to use his body as he seems fit, holding onto him for dear life as he buries his cock in his stretched out hole over and over again.

“Ren,” he whimpers, head falling back and hitting the muddy ground at another powerful thrust.

But Ren is not going to give him what he so desperately wants. Not yet. Not so easily.

“My name,” he pants into Hux's ear, nipping at the outer shell with lazy indulgence so very unlike the punishing rhythm of his hips that never once falters. “Say my name.

“Like hells I will--”

Ren cuts him off with another thrust that has his insides burning. The slide of Ren's cock in and out of his abused hole is delicious torture, potent enough to break even a General of the First Order.

“Kriff,” he curses, his neatly cut fingernails digging into Ren's scalp.

“Say it,” Ren demands once more.

He's close, Hux can tell, the only thing holding him back his ridiculous pride and an irrational need to hear his chosen name from Hux's lips.

“Fine then,” Hux hisses, while, at the same time, rolling his hips forward to force Ren as deep inside him as possible. “Have it your way...Kylo!”

Ren comes with an earth-shattering howl, followed by a soft whimper Hux decides to ignore entirely. Instead, he grabs Ren by his head and pulls his face close, swallowing the sound with a kiss that's neither loving nor tender. All the while, Ren keeps moving, the snapping of his hips never faltering until Hux can feel Ren's spend leak out of him, pushed away by his unrelenting cock.

“Hux,” Ren mumbles into his ear, teeth grazing his ear. “Please.”

It's the whispered plea, that little victory, that sends Hux over the edge at last and he comes with a strangled cry, painting his own stomach and Ren's chest with his come.

After, as they lie in the aftermath of their debauchery, neither of them speaks. Ren hasn't pulled out of him yet, despite his cock already having grown soft inside him, but Hux can't be bothered to care. Too exhausted, too sated and, in no small part, too appalled by his own actions.

“This won’t leave the planet,” he says at last, words half-muffled with the way his face is pressed against the curve of Ren's neck.

Ren doesn't answer, his only reaction a low rumble, all too reminiscent of a big cat's satisfied purring. Hux decides to take it as agreement, for his own sanity.

“Will it happen again though?" Ren asks, while pressing a kiss to the underside of Hux's chin, as if he hopes that might placate him.

Hux scoffs but his answer, for reasons he refuses to examine too closely, isn’t quite as antagonistic.

“Perhaps, if you learn to behave yourself.”

* * *

Bylsma finds them not long after, in the middle of them putting their soiled clothes back on, desperately trying to appear nonchalant when the old man gives them a knowing and entirely too amused look.

“Told you, you'd regret breathing in the spores,” he says, watching Hux straightening out his tunic while pretending not to be disgusted by the come seeping into the fabric. "Drives a man crazy with want. Good thing it was your partner who found you and not somebody or something else."

Hux makes a disgusted face at that. Ren's expression, on the other hand, remains impassive. How he manages that, after just being caught having violent, drug-induced sex in the wild, is beyond Hux. Especially considering that he's the one supposed to not have his emotions under control.

“Lucky me,” Hux acknowledges dryly, enduring Bylsma's friendly clap on the back with all the dignity he has left after the dismissal events that have led him to this.

No poisoned mushrooms for Bylsma after all, Hux decides. Oh no, the man will die a far more painful death than that.

FIN


End file.
